


The benefits of modern dentistry

by cactusonastair



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, Lewis Summer Challenge 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 07:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cactusonastair/pseuds/cactusonastair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robbie Lewis discovers that the benefits of modern dentistry can reach pretty far.  Episode tag for s6e4 "The Indelible Stain".</p>
            </blockquote>





	The benefits of modern dentistry

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Lewis Summer Challenge 2012 and originally published on September 8, 2012 [on LiveJournal](http://cactusonastair.livejournal.com/891.html).
> 
> With thanks to wendymr for Britpicking feedback.

Robbie Lewis sat at his dining table, gazing at his brand new jogging shoes, dithering between biting the bullet or just making a run for it. He was on the verge of deciding that discretion was, after all, the better part of valour when a sharp rhythm tapped against his window glass startled him out of his contemplations. He looked up to see the unwelcome apparition of his sergeant standing on the other side, morning sun framing his blond hair like a halo, looking for all the world like some kind of guardian angel. The busybody, interfering kind, who showed up ten minutes before they were expected and nearly gave you a heart attack into the bargain.

Robbie reluctantly opened the door for him. "Morning, sir. Not trying to escape, I hope?" James Hathaway gazed at him soulfully, all goodness and innocence and too bloody observant for his own good.

"No, Hathaway, I wasn't," Robbie replied, aiming for authoritative calm and missing by a mile.

Hathaway tried - unsuccessfully - to hide a pitying look. "You know, my dentist really is very good."

"When you have a set of perfect teeth, sure every dentist is 'very good'," Robbie grumbled. "I'll be out in a second. I just need to brush and floss."

James clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his feet. "My conversational Mandarin teacher taught us a saying the other day. You're 'embracing the Buddha's feet in the hour of need.'"

"Conversational Mandarin? You're actually doing that?" James had mentioned it only once, two years ago, and Robbie had always put it down as an excuse that James had pulled out of thin air.

James ducked his head, cheeks flushing red. "I didn't want it to be an outright lie, sir, so..."

"...you took classes for _two years_?" Robbie raised his eyebrows. Even for Hathaway, that seemed like pretty steep penance. "So what's it mean then, this Buddha thing?"

"It means that it's probably too late to change the overall state of your dental hygiene right now, so why don't you just come?"

"Oh, all right. Let me put on a bloody T-shirt first." Robbie shut and locked the window. When he came out the front door, he found Hathaway hovering near the entrance. He immediately took up a position one step behind Robbie, and darted forward to hold the door open for him, keeping himself firmly interposed between Robbie and freedom the whole time. Classic herding tactics from the first week at Hendon.

Robbie sighed and wondered where he'd gone wrong in house-training his sergeant. _He_ would never have dared to force Morse to go to the dentist, would he?

* * *

"Here we are, sir," Hathaway announced, more cheerily than Robbie would have expected, the day after the arrest of Andrew Lipton. That had been a downright depressing case, and Hathaway seemed to have made some sort of connection with the bookish professor. Robbie would never have had Hathaway down as a sadist, but apparently his discomfiture was bringing the lad great joy. Though he didn't exactly appreciate that it was coming at his expense, it was good to see the lad smile.

The smile was briefly obscured as Hathaway dived into the back of the car and retrieved a book. It looked about ten thousand pages long.

"You didn't have to bring bloody _War and Peace_ , did you?"

Hathaway looked down at the monstrous tome. "Just a little light reading while I wait. Unless you'd like me to come in and hold your hand?"

"I'll be all right on my own, thank you, Sergeant," Robbie said snippily.

The dental clinic Hathaway went to was a lot smaller than Laura Hobson's. Just a couple of rooms, one hygienist and one dentist, both of whom clearly knew James well. It was cosy and homely and not at all like the horrifically efficient bureaucracy of torture he'd spent ten agonising minutes waiting in last time. He was shown straight in to the larger of two rooms. Apart from the torture device situated in its centre, it had an airy, friendly atmosphere, largely due to the cartoon characters painted on the pastel walls.

"Hathaway, d'you honestly go to a _children's dentist_?"

"No, I'm usually in the room for grown-ups next door. I requested this one for you specially," Hathaway smirked at him.

Robbie gave his sergeant the glare that promised paperwork hell come Monday.

Hathaway caught the look - well, he wasn't a detective for nothing. "I'll, um, just wait outside, then. Good luck, sir," he intoned solemnly, as if Robbie was off to the wars.

"Just get the hell outta here," Robbie growled. James beat a hasty retreat.

The hygienist bustled in, a cheerful girl James' age who'd introduced herself as Mary. "Please take a seat, Mr. Lewis. Would you like a DVD to take your mind off things?"

"A DVD?" Robbie repeated. Had those even been invented the last time he'd been to the dentist?

"Yes, we often find it helps to distract our patients. You'll be able to watch it on the screen up here."

Robbie was about to reject the offer when he decided that adult pride really didn't warrant suffering in agony for the next few hours. "What d'you have, lass?"

"Well, let's see, we have..." She opened a cabinet and began reciting the titles of the brightly-coloured discs, most of which Robbie had never even heard of.

Hang on a minute, James had said he was _usually_ in the other room, hadn't he? Which meant... "On second thought, just give me the one James usually asks for," he said off-handedly.

Mary gave him a conspiratorial wink, selected one among the DVDs and inserted it into the player.

Robbie leaned back in the chair and let the tunes of Lyn and Mark's - and, apparently, James Hathaway's - childhoods jig over him.

_Postman Pat, Postman Pat, Postman Pat and his black-and-white cat..._

* * *

"It wasn't as bad as you thought it would be, was it?" Hathaway asked as they stopped at a traffic light on their way home.

"Ask me again when I can actually feel my mouth," Robbie slurred. Overall, it hadn't been a total disaster, though it hadn't been a stroll in the park either. Dr. Marston and Mary had done their best, but twenty years without modern dentistry had taken their toll, and even Postman Pat hadn't been able to combat the worst of it. At least the T-shirt had stayed unbloodied, which counted as a victory.

Hathaway regarded him steadily. "You look like you could do with a cuppa." He flipped on his left blinkers.

"My place is that way." Robbie pointed right.

"And mine's this way," Hathaway said, executing the turn.

"I do have the necessary equipment to make tea."

"An admirable property, shared by more than ninety-nine percent of British households, including mine."

Robbie gave up. "Ah well, up to you, lad." It might be a nice change. In all the years he and Hathaway had worked together, he'd only been here once, when he took James home from the hospital after the Zoe Kenneth case, and even then he hadn't stayed long. They'd been to Robbie's flat hundreds of times, for breakfast or a takeaway after work, but never chez Hathaway.

James disappeared into the kitchen as soon as they arrived, leaving Robbie to wander. The windows were thrown open, but a familiar scent still lingered, a combination of cigarettes, old books and a faint trace of incense that Robbie realised he'd come to associate with his sergeant's presence. Scent aside, it wasn't quite what he'd expected, if only because he wouldn't have had any idea what to expect. Ikea furniture he could see. The Gorgon head on the wall he hadn't, but if the flat had been sterile and empty, he wouldn't have been too much more surprised. He was glad it wasn't.

A phone rang.

"Want me to answer that?" he asked, recognising Hathaway's mobile ringtone.

"Go ahead," Hathaway called.

"What do I say if it's one of your girlfriends?"

Hathaway's head emerged from the kitchen, mouth inverted into a frown. "I can pretty much guarantee it's not," he said, and vanished. Robbie traced the source of the ringing to a pocket of James' hoodie where he'd hung it up in the hall.

"Hello?"

"Oh, Robbie, you're alive." It was Laura Hobson. Of course.

"You could sound a bit happier about it. Did you put him up to this?" Robbie demanded.

"What, bringing you to his dentist? No, you can blame James for that. He came up with the idea independently. Where are you now?"

"At Hathaway's. He's bringing out the tea," Robbie replied, seeing Hathaway carry a teapot and two cups to the coffee table.

"Looks like he succeeded where I failed," Laura said, sounding amused. "Tell him well done from me." The mobile went dead.

"Dr. Hobson, I presume? How is she?" Hathaway asked, settling into his sofa.

"Sorry she won't have the pleasure of poking through my innards next week, apparently. She says 'well done'," Robbie said.

"Does she now," Hathaway said vaguely.

Robbie plonked himself down next to Hathaway, their knees knocking. Hathaway poured them a cuppa each. They sipped contentedly for a while, before Hathaway suddenly asked, "So how was the match?"

"The match? Didn't go, in the end."

Hathaway looked startled. "Why not?"

"How was I supposed to enjoy it, with the scalpel of Damocles hanging over my head?" Robbie was rewarded with a sudden, brilliant grin from Hathaway, as he always was whenever he demonstrated some snippet of classical knowledge. Robbie mentally thanked Professor Gold for her book. It was truly the gift that kept on giving.

"I think there might be a replay on about now," Robbie continued. "Mind if I?"

"Not at all," Hathaway said courteously, although Robbie knew better. Robbie grabbed the remote control and flipped through the channels until he finally located the one showing the game and settled in for the duration. He yawned, suddenly realising that he was close to exhausted. He'd just close his eyes for a few moments...

* * *

When he next opened his eyes, he was met with a grey screen rather than the bright green of the football pitch. The twang of guitar strings replaced the buzz of the crowd at the match. "Oi, I was watching that," Robbie objected sleepily.

"Indeed? That's a surprise, given that the match ended a couple of hours ago," Hathaway said dryly. He had tucked himself into an armchair, and was idly plucking out a tune.

Robbie blinked, and began to take in his surroundings. He'd somehow been translated into a horizontal position on the sofa. A light blanket had been tucked around him. The light was slanting in at a completely different angle. The teapot had been cleared away. "What time is it?"

"Half two."

He'd slept right through lunchtime. Robbie sniffed the air. "James. Is that lentil soup I smell?"

Hathaway smiled and unfolded his limbs. "I thought you might be hungry."

He was starving, Robbie realised. He hadn't eaten well for a few days, ever since his tooth had begun broadcasting its complaints to the rest of his body.

Hathaway rose and padded to the kitchen in socked feet. Robbie roused himself with an effort and went to the dining table. It was already set for two.

"Didn't you eat already?" he called.

"I wasn't that hungry," Hathaway shrugged, carrying out the pot of soup. He ladled out generous servings for each of them. Robbie tried a mouthful.

"James."

"Sir?" Hathaway cocked his head to one side, awaiting his judgment.

"You're going to make someone an excellent wife one day."

Hathaway rolled his eyes. "I don't know how to even begin enumerating everything that's wrong about that statement."

"Oh, you do know," Robbie told him. "You're just humouring your hide-bound old guv'nor."

They continued trading barbs as they ate. "I was only half joking, you know," Robbie said presently. "What about Mary from the dentist's? She seemed like a nice girl." 

"I don't think good teeth and seeing someone twice a year makes a good foundation for a relationship." Hathaway's eyes flicked up at Robbie. "I prefer the opposite, really."

His brain must still be slow from sleep, Robbie decided - Hathaway couldn't mean he actually wanted someone with bad teeth, did he? "She knows your favourite cartoon," Robbie pointed out.

Hathaway grimaced. He'd obviously been hoping it had been a coincidence. "Doesn't know how to keep a secret."

"Oh, that's important, is it?"

"Essential." Which closed off that avenue of conversation. With the full cooperation of his teeth and gums, Robbie helped himself to a couple more helpings of the hearty soup. He sat back with a contented sigh at the end of the meal.

"I'll do the washing-up," Robbie volunteered.

"Oh, no, I'll do it," Hathaway said hastily, rising to his feet.

"Sit down, and that's an order."

"Woof," Hathaway said obediently.

It wasn't as if there was much to do, anyway: the pot was still half-full, so there was only their bowls and the cutlery to wash. Robbie quickly soaped them up and rinsed them out. As he dried them with a tea-towel, he searched for their normal resting-place. He opened a cabinet door at random, and came face-to-face with the largest personal stash of spirits Robbie had seen since he'd been told to shape up vis-à-vis the alcohol policy, or ship out of the Oxfordshire Police.

"Having trouble, sir?" Hathaway shouted from the other room.

Robbie hastily closed the cabinet door. "No trouble. Where do the bowls go, lad?"

"Second cabinet from the left. Am I allowed to move yet?"

Robbie gave his permission and replaced the bowls, thinking furiously. He hadn't been imagining it, then. Today had been an exception, but Hathaway had been moping about for months. Well, it had to stop.

If this was the sort of thing James was getting up to on his evenings alone, Robbie wasn't going to leave Hathaway to his own devices from now on. They were going to start tonight, and Robbie had a pretty good idea of how to get his revenge - James had already escaped twice, but he wasn't about to escape a third time. If James could force Robbie to go to the dentist, he could jolly well force James to sit through one footy match at the pub.

And if James could drag Robbie out of the past, kicking and screaming, Robbie was damn well going to cure James of this existential Spanish flu.

* * *

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it, James?" Robbie said as they departed the pub, ears still ringing from the raucous cheering.

James shrugged. "I'll live."

Robbie snorted. "That should've been my line."

"You did say to ask you again when the anaesthetic wore off."

Robbie considered. "I suppose I'm not as stuck in the past as I thought I was."

"Time heals all things," James agreed solemnly. By unspoken agreement, they set off along the towpath by the river, taking in the balmy summer evening.

"James -"

"Sir -" James began simultaneously.

They broke off with a laugh. "Go ahead," Robbie said encouragingly.

"When you say you're not stuck in the past anymore, do you mean..." James trailed off hesitatingly, his cheeks pink.

"About Laura?" Robbie guessed. James nodded mutely.

Robbie let himself think for a few moments as they walked, elbows brushing. He liked Laura, always had, but there had always only been one woman for him, since he'd met Val. If they tried to take things deeper, he'd be constantly comparing the two of them, and that wouldn't be fair to Laura.

He made up his mind. "I'm a one-woman man, James. I don't think that will ever change."

James' eyes widened. "I...see, sir." He looked as if a gigantic weight had been taken off of him. The slouch was gone and there was a bounce in his step as they turned and walked back to the car.

He seemed to have made a resolution for himself, too, because he paused at the door and declared, "I enjoyed myself today."

"So did I," Robbie said warmly. "With one obvious exception, of course."

"Same time tomorrow, then?" James asked, the beginnings of a grin at the corners of his mouth.

Robbie blinked. "What on earth for?"

"We're going jogging."

" _What!_ "

Letting James drag him to the dentist had obviously been the beginning of the slippery slope. This was how the house-training of a sergeant came undone. Give him an inch, and he'd take a bleeding mile. He ought to nip this sort of thing in the bud, right now, but...

But there was hope in the lad's eyes, and Robbie knew it was more than a mischievous suggestion of penance for lying to James, it was a plea for companionship. And he wasn't about to let anything take away the smile on James' face.

"Just promise me one thing," he said, resignedly. There were certain boundaries he wouldn't ever allow James to cross.

James was immediately on his guard. "What's that?"

"You're never going to drag me to conversational Mandarin. Conversational bloody Greek was bad enough."

A wicked little smile crooked across James' face. "I wouldn't dream of it, sir."


End file.
